All Things Considered
by HeavenRose
Summary: As James lies comatose after an attack, Carlos realizes the two can communicate by means of Carlos's dreams. Together, they try to solve the mystery of who hurt James. Meanwhile, Kendall and Logan fear Carlos is in just as much danger as their injured friend.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Wow, I haven't written fanfiction in such a long time! I guess this is my come back :D I've been away from this fandom for a while and probably won't know anyone on this website anymore. I guess this is a great opportunity to meet new friends! My name is Rose, and this is my newest story, "All Things Considered." It takes place maybe around the end of season 2 or start of season 3 of the TV show, when the guys are getting famous but not yet at super-stardom.**

**I also want to say a quick thanks to the incredible Aeroway, who helps edit my stories, supports me, and gives me advice that I hope will help me become as great a writer as he is.**

**Warnings: This fic is rated T because of angst, mentions of violence, and later on in the story some unintentional self-harm. (Don't worry, that'll make sense later.) I will post warnings before each chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 1

Kendall's eyes could talk. Today they were screaming.

Sometimes Kendall's mouth couldn't—or _wouldn't_—express the words he needed to say. But Carlos never had to guess what Kendall was thinking. Everything unspoken could be found in those green irises. They revealed the emotions Kendall felt on the inside, regardless of whether or not he showed those feelings on the outside. They told the truth. They questioned, they answered, they comforted, scolded, schemed and played. Most of all, Kendall's eyes said all the things his mouth didn't dare.

Only Carlos seemed mindful of the unusual characteristic, though he was only aware if he bothered to pay attention. Today, where Carlos could usually detect truth in Kendall's eyes, he saw nothing but fear. He saw desperation. He saw someone drowning and fighting to breathe; someone lost and searching for a way out; someone about to break.

"Carlos," Kendall kept repeating softly, like saying his name was supposed to be comforting.

There was blood on Kendall's shirt.

Carlos still refused to believe it.

"No," murmured Carlos. He took a large step backwards, away from his friend. Because it had to be a joke, right? Some sort of misunderstanding? He searched for the lie on Kendall's face, but detected no deception.

Logan, standing near Kendall, crossed his arms over his chest to hide the fact that they trembled. He wouldn't lift his gaze from the floor. It wasn't like Logan's eyes could talk, anyway. Logan's eyes always mirrored what he showed on the outside, so Carlos knew if he could see them he'd discover nothing but a mess of grief and worries.

And Kendall just kept giving Carlos that look, that _believe me_ look—the one Carlos hated, because he certainly didn't want to accept Kendall was telling the truth. His friend's eyes shimmered in a way they shouldn't, and it was _wrong_, because Kendall wasn't supposed to look like that, ever.

"Guys, this isn't funny," Carlos said, stomping his foot in frustration. "Prank day was, like, six months ago. And besides, one of Lord Prankerton's rules is that the pranks have to be _physical_. You know that. We…" He swallowed a lump of emotion in his throat. "We made the book…"

Eyes sparkling brighter, Kendall tried to hold out an arm, but Carlos immediately leapt back. "No!" he cried. Flustered, he raked both hands through his hair. "No, this… This isn't funny! Where's James? Is he hiding somewhere?" He did a quick survey of the apartment's main room and saw no one else. "He's in our room, isn't he?" Intent on locating his absent friend, Carlos spun around on his heel and marched towards the hall. "James!" he called. "James, come on. Joke's over."

Kendall and Logan followed behind, a steady, pleading chant of Carlos's name still spilling from Kendall's mouth.

Carlos pretended not to listen. He burst into his and James's shared bedroom. It appeared empty, but that didn't mean James wasn't there. "Dude, come on." Carlos yanked open the closet door and pushed aside some green shirts, because James liked to organize his stupid side of the closet by color. "James, _I mean it_." He huffed an annoyed sigh and slammed the door shut after deeming it James-free. "Do you want me to admit it? Okay, you got me. Joke over. Good one. Now come on." Grumbling, Carlos dropped to his knees and peered under James's bed. Besides a sheet balled in the far corner, the search revealed nothing but a span of carpet.

"Carlos, come here," Kendall said from the doorway. His voice was hollow and empty. Lifeless.

Carlos rose slowly from the floor, sucking in a shuddery breath. His legs felt like two slabs of concrete, keeping him weighed in front of the bed. No. No, no, no. His heart crawled up to his throat as realization crept in. From behind him Logan let out a choked squeak, which was accompanied by rapid footsteps as he hurried out of the room.

"Carlos," Kendall whispered for the hundredth time.

The Latino turned around, moving only because his instincts were taking over and forcing him to obey. His vision was so blurred that he could barely see Kendall standing there, his arm still weakly extended, like he wanted Carlos to come closer. But Carlos wouldn't. Not while Kendall had James's bloodstains on his shirt.

Carlos's words were a whisper, as light as Kendall's. "You're lying."

Kendall swallowed, hard. He didn't blink. "You know I wouldn't lie about this."

"But…," Carlos started, fumbling over his words. "But, James, he… I mean, just this morning we… He _can't_ be…"

"Come here," Kendall repeated.

Carlos's gaze flicked down to Kendall's shirt.

Kendall noticed and followed Carlos's eyes. A noticeable shiver racked his frame as he examined the crusted blood. His arm finally dropped to his side, but despite his jittery body and suddenly pallid complexion, his words were unwavering and strong. "Mom gave us money for a cab. We need to meet her at the hospital as soon as possible, okay?"

When Carlos didn't respond, Kendall tried again. "Carlos, hey. You understand?"

He nodded, slowly, trying to absorb the information. Kendall declared something about grabbing Logan before he started for the hall, and Carlos followed robotically, leaving his empty room behind. A thick knot of trepidation sank his stomach, making his footsteps heavier. The feeling was so strong that he wondered if it was even real. Maybe he was trapped in a nightmare. Surely something so horrible couldn't exist in real life, right?

Logan was found in the bathroom, leaning over the running sink, doing nothing but staring at the gushing water. A white-knuckle grip secured the overhanging edge of the counter. Kendall pulled Logan by the shoulders to get him to move, and practically tugged him out of the apartment. Kendall stumbled once, but he recovered quickly, because that's just the kind of person he was.

Carlos watched his friends disappear through the doorway. Ice crept through his veins and froze him to the spot. He stared dumbly at the empty space where Kendall and Logan had been only a moment ago. No one would lie like that. No one _could_ lie like that—especially Kendall, with his truth-telling eyes.

It was really happening.

He wished he could shrink and melt into the floor, because Kendall came back to the apartment when he realized Carlos wasn't following, guiding Logan by means of a hand on his shoulder. Kendall told Logan to stay put, and then, with a silent mouth and a scream returning to his eyes, strode into the apartment and grabbed Carlos by the wrist. The red stains on Kendall's shirt stared at Carlos as he was forced away.

He was led into the hall of the Palm Woods where Logan stood waiting, slouched against the wall. Kendall managed to get the door closed and locked all while retaining his grip on Carlos, then promptly fisted Logan's shirt and prodded him along the bright corridor as well.

No one struggled, protested, or shrugged Kendall away. Carlos and Logan were tugged along like reluctant puppies on a leash. Kendall refused to let go even when the three were safely in the elevator, opting instead to hit the button for the lobby with his shoe. Carlos knew that meant something was very, very wrong. And Logan was thinking it too; there was no doubt in Carlos's mind:

Stuff like this wasn't supposed to happen. Not to them.

Especially not today, during an afternoon that was supposed to go so well.

The day had started like any other.

* * *

The morning had been normal.

Carlos woke with a whine and covered his head with a pillow. His body was nestled in a warm layer of fluffy blankets, and the last thing he wanted to do was get up and make himself productive. Why did James have to get up so _early_? He debated throwing his pillow at his taller friend, considering the hiss of a hairspray can was by no means a lullaby, but decided if he messed up James's hair he'd have to listen to the 'Cuda Massive Hold be applied all over again.

"James," moaned Carlos, rubbing at his eyes. "It's, like, six in the morning."

"It's nine-thirty," James corrected, attention never leaving his reflection. He struck a pose in front of the mirror, decided it wasn't good enough, then continued coating his hair in a sticky drizzle. "And today it is very important that I look _good_."

"You say that every day," Carlos muttered. He flopped over and pulled his covers up to his chin, intent on getting back to sleep. Unfortunately, the scent of James's hairspray finally hit his nose, and he knew even with a blanket covering his face, attempting to escape the fumes was useless. He should be used to it by now. Waking to the strong, spicy scent of James's favorite line of grooming products was an everyday occurrence. But Carlos could be cranky when his body functioned on four hours of sleep.

Really, it was his own fault he was so tired. He'd stayed up late watching scary movies with Logan and Katie, and then had troubles falling asleep in fear of blood-thirsty creatures lurking in the shadows of his room. Logan and Katie hadn't seemed so afraid, though; Logan had an annoying habit of meticulously analyzing every inaccuracy in the films, and Katie found the movies comedic, especially when a character was maimed or eaten.

James set the hairspray on his vanity desk, because yeah, he actually had one of those. It made their room look girly, and Carlos wanted to get rid of it, but in exchange for keeping the stupid piece of furniture James allowed Carlos to decorate. He chose glow-in-the-dark stickers of planets and stars. They were probably what kept the monsters away.

"That may be so," James stated dramatically, twirling around to Carlos, "but it's not every day I have a date with a _model_." He made sure to say the last part with extra emphasis so even Carlos, in his sleep-deprived state of mind, could understand that this was a big deal.

"No way." Carlos totally got the message and was suddenly wide awake. Discarding his blankets, he tossed his legs over the side of his bed and sat at full attention. "How did you score a date with a model?"

"Um, duh." James gestured to his face.

Carlos rolled his eyes. "How did you even meet her?"

"She sent me a letter and told me how awesome I was. She thinks my voice is, and I quote, 'like an angel,' and that I'm the most _debonair_ member of the band."

"What's that mean?" asked Carlos, making a face.

"I'm not sure, but I think it's a good thing." James turned to examine his reflection once more, then frowned. He mumbled something to himself about wearing a warmer color, because he'd worn black yesterday and couldn't _possibly_ be seen in the same color two days in a row, and promptly shed his dark button-up for a red one.

"Pop quiz, Carlos," said James as his fingers worked on fastening the shirt. "How many buttons should I leave open?"

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Um, I don't know. Just the top one?"

"Oh, my friend. So naïve."

Carlos frowned.

"See, one button undone is appropriate in any other social situation." He theatrically brushed invisible dust from each shoulder. "But this is a _model _we're talking about. In this case, you have to leave _at_ _least_ two undone, but no more than three."

Carlos fumbled for a notepad and pen on his nightstand. "Two buttons undone… no more than three," he wrote. The information could come in handy later. James seemed to understand everything about girls, and Carlos planned on gathering all the knowledge he could. "So are you guys going to a movie or something?" he asked. Maybe there was some sort of popcorn-sharing tip James knew as well. James had already told Carlos of the not-so-subtle yawn and stretch technique. Since Carlos had never actually gotten a girl to join him at the movies, he never had occasion to try it. Well, except for one time when he'd practiced on Logan, but Logan, thoroughly disturbed, had shoved Carlos out of his seat and made Kendall switch spots with him for the rest of the show. Logan wasn't a very good sport.

"Nah," replied James, "just going out for lunch. Theaters are dark, dude."

"And you won't be able to see her?"

"And _she_ won't be able to see _me._"

"Dude. You should totally get her picture."

James grinned. "She's already sent me some pics. I'll show you later. Oh, and keep your phone on. I'll text you if she has a single friend. Or a sister." He did one final pose in the mirror, then practically twirled out of the room to go get breakfast.

Carlos chuckled to himself as he rose to his feet. He stretched his arms, stiff from clutching his pillow all night. Stupid scary movies.

He dressed himself sluggishly, and used his comb—the one with the crooked teeth that James wouldn't go near—to make sure his hair wasn't too messy. He barely glanced into the mirror as he made his way into the hall, all the while wishing _he_ had a model fan girl. Well, one that wanted to date him, anyway.

He was still thinking about James's date when he stepped out. Kendall and Logan were just emerging from their shared bedroom as well, except they seemed livelier than Carlos. Obviously they'd gotten their eight hours of sleep.

Everyone gathered at the table for breakfast. Mrs. Knight made waffles, which in Carlos's opinion were way better than boring old pancakes, and had tall glasses of orange juice set out for all of them. Katie totally hogged all the syrup, Logan spilled his juice on Kendall's shoe, Carlos threw a piece of toast across the table for some reason, and it was the best breakfast ever. He assumed the chaotic—though not uncommon—morning caused James to forget to tell the guys about his sure to be amazing lunch date. Knowing James, Carlos expected some serious boasting, but the taller teen seemed more focused on the face staring back at him in his handheld mirror. Not that Carlos blamed him. If Carlos had a date with a model, he'd want to look good, too.

The afternoon had been normal.

James excitedly darted off to meet his date about an hour before the remaining members of BTR ventured downstairs to enjoy their day off work. They decided on soaking up as much sun as they could before they were back in the windowless studio all day tomorrow.

"Hey, Carlos!"

He turned at the female voice that had called his name and saw Camille walking across the lobby to come meet him. Carlos waved at Logan and Kendall as they headed towards the pool. They nodded and continued on their way.

"Hi, Camille," Carlos greeted.

"Hey, do you want to help me out with something?" she asked. Her wavy brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and a pair of loose cargo pants covered her legs. She seemed to be in costume. The giveaway was the line of fake blood applied in a C shape around the side of her right eye.

"Let me guess. For an audition, right?"

"A movie, actually." She grinned. "I'm trying out for the role of Bridgette Gutweaver, a teenage girl in a dystopian future whose brother has just been abducted by the infected people of Quadrant Four."

"Ooh, that sounds cool," he said, nodding in approval. "But I'm not much of an actor…"

"Oh, it's easy," she said dismissively. Camille revealed a thick script that Carlos hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Just read your lines and react normally to the situation."

Well. When she put it that way, acting sounded like a piece of cake.

He eyed the hefty packet of paper she thrust into his hands. "Okay. I guess I'll give it a shot."

"Yes!" cried Camille, like he was saving her day. "Thank you!"

Carlos figured he wasn't really blowing off Kendall and Logan, considering the plans to hang at the pool had only been formed a minute ago in the elevator. Besides, Carlos saw the guys every single day. He didn't get a lot of chances to spend time with Camille. It was unfortunate, because although she scared him sometimes, she was actually really cool. He kind of wished Logan would date her again; Camille would make a lovely sister-in-law. Or, wait. _Were_ they dating? They might have been. It was hard to keep track.

"How come you didn't get Logan to help you?" he asked, hoping to pry the information out of her.

They stepped into the elevator and started the ascension to the fourth floor. Camille tugged at her ponytail. "Well, I was going to, but I figured since we're off again it would be a little awkward."

Oh.

"And James was busy. Something about a girl who thought he was debonair… I don't really know."

"I still don't know what _debonair_ means," said Carlos.

"Me either. It sounds like a compliment, though."

The two arrived at Camille's apartment. Carlos had never been inside before. It was a quaint place, significantly different from the crib. There was no swirly slide or orange couch, but plenty of decorative vases with clusters of colorful flowers resting inside, intricate paintings on the wall, and knickknacks on the shelves. Plus, a normal colored sofa.

"Oooh, nice place," he complemented, not bothering to hide the fact that he was gawking. He moved to the coffee table in front of the couch and marveled at the bowl of wax fruit resting atop a doily. Seriously. _Wax fruit_. This place was high-class.

"Thanks." As they moved into the living area, Camille somehow transformed into Bridgette. Her eyebrows kitted together and her voice developed a hint of desperation. "Oh, captain, you don't understand. If I'm not permitted to board this vessel, my brother will become the enemy."

Carlos narrowed his eyes confusedly. Camille gestured to the papers in his hands. "What?" Carlos looked down. "Oh! Right." He quickly opened his script to the page she had marked, searching for his line. He discovered his character was named Marcus Shanty, and was the middle-aged captain of a large boat that could be used to take Bridgette to her missing sibling.

Carlos cleared his throat. "Holds out an arm. I am sorry my dear but I can not let you aboard my ship." When he was finished, he raised his head and beamed, proud of himself.

Camille frowned and broke character. "Carlos, you don't read the stuff in parentheses."

"Oh, okay. Let me try again." He sucked in a deep breath. "I am sorry my dear but I can not let you aboard my ship."

"Better," said Camille, placing a hand on her chin. "But you need to loosen up a little. You're speaking like a robot."

"So?"

"So I can't play off your reaction when your voice only has one tone."

"I AM SORRY MY DEAR BUT I CAN NOT LET YOU ABOARD MY SHIP."

"Now you're just shouting."

He pouted.

She frowned in thought. Carlos rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling awkward under the scrutiny. Maybe he could convince Logan to help instead.

Camille suddenly snapped her fingers. "I got it! I know what you need."

"Really? What?"

"Well, every time I practice for a role, I get into costume. That way I can really _become_ the character, you know? So if you get a costume, you'll become Marcus Shanty for sure."

Carlos smiled, relieved that she still had faith in him. "Okay, great! But where do I get a sailor costume?"

"I think I have one of Steve's in my room. We auditioned for roles in the community theater's production of _Titanic_." Before Carlos could respond, Camille twirled around and bounded down the hall. She returned a moment later, holding a pair of white slacks and a navy blue blazer, each looking about three sizes too big. "Now all you need is a cutlass for the fight in scene eight," she said, grinning successfully. The costume was promptly tossed at Carlos's head. The script tumbled from his hands as he reached out to catch the pants and jacket.

"What's a cutlass?" he asked.

"A sword. Kind of like the ones pirates use."

Carlos's eyes widened in delight. Logan was totally missing out. "I get to be a _pirate_?"

"Sort of." Camille approached him and took the pants and jacket. "The only problem is I don't have any plastic swords lying around." She gave a thoughtful hum under her breath, then held the blazer to his torso. "I forgot that Steve is taller than you."

Carlos looked down in dismay, noting the tail of the jacket fell to his mid thighs. The sleeves were also a few inches too long, and there was definitely a lot more arm room inside than he needed.

Camille's face lit up. "Hey, how about you run down to the toy store, and while you're gone I'll stay here and hem up these pants and jacket?"

He agreed, because how cool were pirates?

Plus, he hadn't been to the toy store in a while. The last time he'd been there was with James, and Mrs. Knight had gotten mad when they brought home a potato launcher. So did Mr. Bitters. Potato launchers were no longer permitted in the Palm Woods.

Checking to make sure his wallet was in his pocket, Carlos made his way downstairs. When he turned his head to peer out the pool doors as he passed, he didn't see Logan or Kendall anywhere. In fact, there weren't many kids in the vicinity at all. Shrugging to himself, he continued through the lobby until he was outside. Immediately the harsh wail of ambulance sirens assaulted his ears. He winced. The sound was close. When he searched for the source of the noise, he saw an ambulance pull into the parking lot and disappear behind the back of the building.

Carlos bit down on his lower lip, nervous. He hoped everyone was alright. The thought of someone being hurt chilled him, and he picked up his pace, leaving the building and starting down the block for the store. He glanced over his shoulder when the sirens abruptly stopped. Maybe that meant the injured person was okay. Yeah. Because if they were hurt then the sirens would be screaming, because sirens meant something bad was happening. No sirens, no danger.

Sighing in relief, Carlos kept on his way. The toy store wasn't that far. His mind floated back to James on his date. Oh! He stopped and patted the pockets of his jeans, then rolled his eyes at his own forgetfulness. He'd left his phone back in the crib. But, Carlos figured, if James's date had a single friend, then James could just tell Carlos when he got home rather then send him a text.

The store was just around the next corner. He unconsciously walked faster, eager to marvel at all the toys. Oh, and buy a pirate sword. But his stomach sank a little as the ambulance sirens started up again, louder than ever, and slowly grew closer. Carlos stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk, watching as the traffic on the street veered to the curb. The ambulance raced past, red and blue lights flashing. He instinctively reached up to shield his ears from the screeching. The vehicle took the next turn and was gone, but Carlos remained glued to the spot until the sirens faded in the distance. A couple passers-by had stopped as well, but continued walking again once their eardrums recovered.

He stared down the street, shivering. It was strange, because the sun hung high in the sky and covered the city in warmth. Slightly unnerved, Carlos slowly began to approach the end of the block. He tugged at the sleeve of his sweatshirt when he shuddered a second time.

The exterior of the toy store was colorful and happy and decorated with posters of big, smiling faces of cartoon animals. The pictures gave Carlos a grin to match. He darted inside, relieved to hear the pleasant sound of laughing children. The joyous atmosphere erased his thoughts of the ambulance, of James's date, and of his misplaced cell phone. As long as Carlos was here, nothing could be wrong. The worries outside didn't matter.

He spent more time in the store than he probably should have. A little boy asked him to reach a dinosaur on a high shelf, which led to Carlos engaging in a prehistoric battle for Beach Fun Barbie. The kid's purple triceratops was no match for Carlos's T-Rex. Only when the boy's mom came to take him home did Carlos remember he was on a quest to locate a cutlass, though he wasn't really sure what one looked like. Thankfully, after only a few minutes of searching, Carlos discovered a whole aisle devoted to costumes and plastic weaponry. He found the most pirate-y sword he could and took it to the checkout counter.

Carlos half-expected to hear more sirens as he stepped back into the Californian sunshine. He glanced around at the people bustling by and took note of how normal things were for them. Then he thought of the ambulance, the person inside, and how it had happened at the Palm Woods. What if it was someone he _knew_? After all, he was familiar with most of the residents.

Maybe he should go back.

Carlos tilted his wrist to see the time on his watch. He'd been gone for a half hour. When he looked back up, however, he noticed something fantastic: a store across the street, one he'd never noticed before, with a sign reading "Grand Opening" posted out front. The pictures of berries and fruit made his stomach rumble for a smoothie, and, okay, it probably wouldn't matter if Camille waited just a few more minutes for his return. Besides, she was sewing Steve's costume for Carlos to wear. How long did it take to sew things? Probably a while. He had time.

He licked his lips as he crossed the street and entered the shop. It was packed with costumers, all sucking down frozen treats. Carlos waited five impatient minutes to place his order. He told the cashier he wanted two pink smoothies, not caring if they were strawberry or cherry or a mixture of both, and exited the store with his lips wrapped around a straw.

It was probably the best thing ever.

By the time he made it back to the Palm Woods, the bag with the toy sword hanging on his wrist, half his smoothie was gone. The one in his other hand was slick with condensation; hopefully the drink hadn't melted too much.

His heart fluttered blithely as he entered the elevator and rose to floor four. He'd just swallowed another mouthful of pink bliss when the doors opened and a body smacked into his.

"Oh, oops, sorry—" he started, cutting himself off when he saw it was Camille.

The girl, still in her Bridgette costume, gaped at him for a moment before her eyebrows drew together in a scowl. "Carlos!" she cried, yanking him out of the elevator and into the hall. "I have been looking everywhere for you! You were supposed to go to the store. What took you so long?"

He was slightly confused by the alarm in her voice and the way she seemed breathless. Nonetheless, he held up the plastic cup. "I just ran across the street real quick to that new smoothie place—"

Camille smacked the drink from his hand. "This is no time for smoothies!"

Carlos gasped in shock at the fruity mess splattering the wall. He was afraid to offer the second dessert. "I brought you one, too…"

She grabbed his arm. "Carlos, something happened. Kendall and Logan are looking for you. You need to go back to your apartment right now."

He looked down and stared at the hand clutching his forearm. The thought crossed his mind that Camille was reprising her role as Bridgette Gutweaver, but the panic she displayed was too genuine. This wasn't a rehearsal.

Still, his mouth couldn't form a sentence, so he said the only thing he could—the automatic word that always came to mind: "What?"

"Just go," she urged, pushing him back to the elevator. Her arm snaked in and hit the button for the second floor.

"Wait," said Carlos, as the doors slid shut. "Don't you want your smoothie?"

Then she was gone from view, and the elevator was quiet.

Huh.

He hummed in thought, not exactly sure how to feel. Just because Camille sounded nervous didn't mean the 'something' that had happened was bad. Maybe Wayne Gretzky finally responded to Kendall's emails. Or maybe that thing on Logan's back went away.

Besides, when did anything bad ever happen to them?

…Well, actually, a lot of bad things happened. But there was _always _a happy ending.

When Carlos entered 2J, two of his friends immediately rushed towards him. He nearly fumbled Camille's smoothie (which he was now claiming as his own, considering his had been rudely swatted away) when Kendall approached. For a second Carlos thought Kendall was going to hug him, but instead the blond gripped Carlos's shoulders and looked him up and down. "Where were you?" Kendall demanded.

Thoroughly confused, Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Um, just getting a pirate sword to help Camille…" He trailed off when he saw the look in Kendall's eyes. Suddenly he knew the 'something' was serious.

A second pair of footsteps stomped up behind Kendall. Logan pushed his way between the two, punching Carlos in the shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. "What is _wrong_ with you?" Logan shrieked, face red, voice strained. He held up Carlos's cell phone. "You just leave your phone in the apartment? Do you know the point of a cell phone, Carlos? It's so you can carry it with you when you go places! So you can always be contacted! Did you ever think that maybe we needed to get a hold of you? Huh? Did you? And what if something had happened to you, huh? What if you were hurt and you needed to call for help but you couldn't because you were stupid enough to leave your phone—"

"Logan, hey, take it easy." Kendall put a hand on Logan's chest and gently ushered him backwards, leading him away from Carlos, who stood wide-eyed and wondering when Logan became his mom.

Heart racing a little faster, Carlos set his sword and smoothie on the table. "Will someone please explain what's going on?"

Kendall kept murmuring to Logan, but with his back turned his voice was too soft for Carlos to hear. Logan listened, bobbing his head to whatever Kendall was saying, but tears pooled in his angry eyes. When Kendall gave his shoulder an affectionate shake, the anger melted to sorrow and Logan turned away, rubbing furiously at his eyes.

"Guys?" Carlos tried again, heart leaping to his throat.

Kendall turned slowly, sucking in a deep breath as he did so. He had this constant air of confidence surrounding him, like everything in the world came easy to him and he could navigate smoothly through the toughest tribulations. Calm, cool, and collected—an appropriate cliché to describe Kendall.

But not today. Because although Kendall's overall demeanor was composed and poised, his eyes said otherwise.

The most important thing to remember about Kendall was simple: Kendall's eyes never lied.

He opened his mouth and explained everything he knew to Carlos. And when Kendall was finished and Carlos stood shaking his head incredulously, he desperately wished that Kendall, just this once, wasn't being straight with him.

"Carlos," said Kendall.

And that was when Carlos noticed the blood, which he'd previously thought was just a strange design on Kendall's shirt. He took a step backwards, fear crashing through him. The sound of the ambulance sirens echoed in his ears and drowned out the noise of Kendall repeating his name yet again.

James had been the one in the vehicle.

Carlos had seen it pull into the parking lot. He'd watched it fly past on the street, completely unaware that his best friend was inside, fighting for his life.

When he looked up and met Kendall's eyes, he saw that they were screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I don't plan on this story being as long as some of my other ones, but believe me when I say things are just getting started. I appreciate all your support and encouragement as I write!**

**Warnings: Angst**

* * *

Chapter 2

"Family of James Diamond?"

Carlos stood so fast that the magazine he'd been paging through toppled off his lap and onto the floor. Everyone else rose as well.

"That's us," Mrs. Knight said. "How is he?"

The nurse gestured to the anxious mother, silently asking her to step into the hall. Mrs. Knight peered down uncertainly at Katie, but when Kendall slid an arm around his sister's shoulder Mrs. Knight followed the woman.

Carlos held his breath as the nurse led Kendall's mom out of earshot. He studied the way their mouths moved, hoping to catch a word or two. Mostly the nurse glanced at her clipboard, and Mrs. Knight nodded while wringing her hands together. She was fraught with worry, and the sight of such a strong woman being frightened made Carlos turn away.

Beside him, Logan scratched at his head and began to pace the waiting room floor for the millionth time since arriving at the hospital. Carlos was pretty sure he was going to wear down the floor tiles if he continued.

Kendall must have noticed too. "Logan, chill," he said, pulling Katie a little closer to his side. "It's James. He's going to be fine."

"Don't tell me to chill," Logan snapped. He spun around and tossed up an arm. "Our best friend was attacked and left to die next to a dumpster and you're telling me to _chill_?"

"The doctor said we found him right away, remember? So there's a good chance—"

"No, Kendall, I don't think you understand. Do you realize his odds for survival are—"

"Don't." Kendall's eyes darkened, and they flicked down to Katie. "I don't care what your textbooks say about this. It's _James_, and he's going to be _fine_."

Logan held Kendall in a staring match so intense that everything around them seemed to melt away. Carlos's heartbeat quickened under the shroud of tension. The heavy thumps were the only proof of his existence.

Logan looked as though he wanted to argue, but Katie shifted uneasily on her feet. Kendall's glower stayed locked on Logan until Logan's eyes shifted to Katie. Then he understood. "Fine. Yeah. Whatever." With a heavy sigh he slumped into the nearest chair and was still.

Carlos shivered, unnerved by all the nonverbal communication. Words he couldn't read hung in the air.

His throat tightened and some stupid tears decided now would be a great time to spring into his eyes. He wanted to talk; wanted to ask Kendall what had happened with James, wanted to know just how bad James was hurt—but the last thing he wanted was to start a fight, especially with Kendall silently reminding everyone of his baby sister's presence. Carlos hated not knowing things. He hated being stuck between 'should he' and 'shouldn't he', and the atmosphere certainly wasn't helping. The air was heavy and significantly lacking in oxygen. Nervous sweat made his t-shirt cling to his chest and back. Couldn't someone just _tell_ him so he wouldn't have to see Kendall's eyes darken until they looked like two inky holes in his head?

He remembered the cab ride to the hospital. The driver had stared strangely at Kendall, undoubtedly noticing the bloodstains on his shirt. Once in the backseat, something went wrong with Logan and he began breathing so hard the cab driver asked if he should pull over. Probably to convince the man the boys hadn't committed a murder, Kendall calmly offered an explanation.

Every story had a long version and a short version, and Carlos knew Kendall had given the driver the latter.

According to Kendall's quick account of the harrowing events, Kendall had somehow discovered James behind the Palm Woods building, propped against some dumpsters with blood gushing down the side of his head. Kendall had used his cell phone to call an ambulance. For the several terrifying minutes it took for the paramedics to arrive, Kendall held his unconscious friend, shirt acting like a sponge for James's blood.

Thankfully, Carlos had worn a sweatshirt today and let Kendall borrow it so he didn't have to change into ugly hospital clothes. Kendall had tossed his soiled shirt in the trash, then retreated to the bathroom and didn't come out for a long time. When he returned he seemed cleaner and brighter, and although his eyes chattered endlessly about fear and anger and blood, no one else noticed because he took his sister in his lap and distracted everyone from his eyes with a feigned smile.

Katie looked up at Kendall as Mrs. Knight finished speaking to the nurse in the hall. "Do you really think James will be okay?" she asked him.

Kendall didn't hesitate. "Yeah, of course." Then he added, "It couldn't have been that bad, right?"

Logan shifted a little in his chair.

Mrs. Knight returned to the waiting room with the nurse, whose ID badge said her name was Marisa.

"James is stable now," Marisa informed. "I can let all of you see him, but since this is such a large party I'd like only a few of you in the room at a time, okay?"

"Me first!" Carlos cried. He shot his hand in the air like he was waiting to be called on at school. "Can I see him, Mrs. Knight? Please?"

"Absolutely. Kendall, Logan, why don't you go too? Katie and I will see him when you're done."

"Aw, come on," Katie protested. "I'm small. I wouldn't take up that much space."

"We'll try to be quick," Kendall promised, placing his hand on her shoulder. Katie gave a tight smile before Kendall left to follow Marisa, Carlos and Logan in tow. The three walked as quickly as they could without passing the nurse as she led them down a short white hall and through some double doors. Carlos inwardly cursed at the woman for walking so _slow_. His muscles tingled with anticipation, and the only way to alleviate the restlessness was to move, move, move.

Finally, after the slowest walk in the entire world, Marisa halted outside a room and gestured for the boys to enter. "I need to check on some other patients," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Kendall was already in the room before the woman could turn to leave. Carlos was quick to follow. His mind whirled so fast he feared his brain would ooze out his ears. He desperately wished for the security of his helmet, but it lay forgotten at home.

Logan and Kendall froze at the side of James's bed, blocking Carlos's view of his injured friend. Scowling, he parted his way between them so he could ask James what had happened.

James's eyes were closed.

He was asleep and Carlos was awake, except Carlos was the one trapped in a nightmare. No way. There was no way this was James. Kendall had said James was hit on the head—a concussion, right? Carlos had had plenty of those before. Heck, he even had a metal plate somewhere on his skull. And the blood, the blood on Kendall's shirt—that was because wounds on the head and face bled more profusely compared to most other areas on the body. Logan had told him that once, and Logan knew, like, _everything_.

So why did James look like this?

There were so many tubes and wires and machines attached to James's body or poking out of him in some way that Carlos questioned the humanity of it all. His breath hitched in his throat as he examined with terrified eyes the white bandage wrapped around James's head. But James wouldn't like that. Someone couldn't just cover James's hair without asking. He'd be furious.

Carlos's gaze traveled lower, to the thick tube sticking out of James's mouth. What _was _that? Could he even breathe? It made him look like he was transforming into one of the machines that sat beside the bed.

"Logan," Carlos gasped, nearly choking on the word. "What is that? What's in his mouth?"

Logan's voice was quiet—the natural hushed tone used when beside a sleeping person. He lightly cleared his throat, but when he spoke his words still sounded rough. "It's a ventilator. It helps him breathe."

"But it was just a concussion, right? Just a concussion?"

Kendall's hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed.

Carlos scanned every inch of James's body, searching for more injuries. Besides the ventilator, the IVs, the wires poking out from under his gown, and the weird clamp on his index finger, James didn't appear much different physically—no casts or braces, no swelled or purpled skin, no scrapes or cuts. Just that stupid bandage.

James was only sleeping. Carlos shared a room with James; he knew how his friend appeared when he was dreaming.

He laughed shakily and reached over to grab James's shoulder. He shook it gently. "Hey, James, wake up."

"Carlos…" Logan shot a quick glance at Kendall. There was a caution in his voice that Carlos tried to ignore.

"Come on," he urged when James didn't stir. His fingers dug harder into James's flesh, barely protected by the thin fabric of the gown. "Seriously, dude. Get up."

"Carlos, he can't," Logan whispered.

"Why can't he? Why can't he wake up?" An edge of panic cut into his voice. Suddenly he was breathing the way Logan had in the cab, and his vision was severely blurred around the edges. "He always wakes up if I shake his shoulder—like when we sleep through our alarm and we're gonna be late to the studio and you and Kendall don't wake us up, I always just grab his shoulder, just like this, and… and he…"

"He's in a coma," Kendall said, gently.

"You know what that is, right?" Logan asked.

Carlos swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Well, yeah, but…"

"Only James can wake himself up," explained Logan. "No one else."

He whimpered in fear. "What do you mean? Does that mean he doesn't want to?" Carlos spun back to James, grabbing his shoulders once more. "James, don't you want to wake up?" A sob tore from his throat.

"No, no, listen." Logan pulled Carlos back and forced him to turn. By this time Carlos felt something wet on his face, but he couldn't lift his arm to wipe it dry. His brain was too busy, his limbs were too heavy. James's machines were beeping and buzzing and Logan was saying something he couldn't hear and why couldn't James just _wake up_?

"Carlos, _hey_. Listen." Logan clutched his shoulder tightly to get his attention. Carlos snapped into focus. He sucked in a couple breaths before reluctantly meeting Logan's silent eyes. "You said you know what a coma is, right? It's like a deep sleep. James is unconscious. No one can just shake his shoulder and wake him up. His body has to figure it out on his own."

Carlos sniffled. "Then how are we supposed to help him?"

Kendall stepped forward as Logan's hand finally dropped. "We'll come visit him," he assured, lifting his chin in a way that exuded confidence. "Every day. We'll let him know we're here."

Carlos inhaled deeply, attempting to calm himself. He slowly rotated around to stare at James, who was deathly still. "Can he hear us?"

"I'm not sure," admitted Logan. "Maybe. It's a nice thought, right?"

Carlos shook his head, vision clouding once more. "I don't think he can."

"Why do you say that?" asked Kendall.

"Because, if he could hear us he would have woken up by now." Carlos looked away, deciding he didn't want to stare at James's closed eyes anymore. When he left the room, no one followed.

* * *

When Carlos made it back to the waiting room he saw Mrs. Knight and Katie speaking with two men. One was a police officer, dressed in a sharp blue uniform, and the other wore a suit and tie. The man was familiar; short, a little portly, aged fifty or so, with a severely receding hairline. Although he had laugh lines on his face, Carlos knew the man was serious about his job.

"Police Chief Stevens?" Carlos questioned. Stevens and the officer turned as Carlos approached them. "What are you doing here?"

He hadn't ever met the man before, but he'd seen pictures and interviews on the news. Logan and Camille had apparently had an encounter with Stevens once—something about stolen money, dumpsters, and Russian spies… He hadn't really paid attention to the story.

Stevens stuck out his hand. "Carlos Garcia?"

"Yeah," he said, shaking it. "What's going on?" Carlos didn't think he'd done anything wrong, and the guys would have told him if they'd done something illegal.

"We're investigating the assault on James Diamond. I got a call from one of my guys who went to the Palm Woods to check out security footage, but since the east side of the building only has an emergency door the manager never installed cameras. We don't have a visual on—"

"Wait, hold up," Carlos interrupted, crinkling his brow together. "You said assault, right? So you mean, like, someone did this to him?"

It hadn't crossed his mind that James's injuries weren't accidental. Logan had said that James was attacked and left to die, but that could mean anything, right?

Well, maybe not. But still.

Logan was a pessimist—surely he was just speculating on what happened to James. There was no bad guy on the loose. James had just fallen and hit his head. Yeah. Stupid Logan. Stupid Police Chief Stevens. Besides, who would want to hurt James? He was likeable.

…Most of the time.

"It looks like it," Stevens said, sympathy lacing his words.

"We'd like to ask you some questions about today, if that's alright," the other officer told Carlos.

He sighed and scratched nervously at his head, suddenly a little sick to his stomach. "Yeah, okay." He legs began to tremble. "Can we please sit down?"

Stevens and the officer, who produced a notepad and pen in his hand, took seats across from Carlos. Mrs. Knight sat beside him and placed a hand on his knee, while Katie stayed standing. She glanced anxiously into the hall where Kendall and Logan still remained.

Stevens leaned forward, expression unreadable and professional. "Carlos, was James supposed to meet anyone today?"

He thought back to earlier. "Just a date for lunch."

"With who?"

"I don't know, he didn't say. Some girl he just met. He said she was a model."

"He didn't tell me about this," Mrs. Knight said.

Carlos shrugged. "He just told me this morning. He didn't tell anyone else. I think he was too busy trying to make his hair look good. Oh, and his shirt. Did you know you're supposed to leave two buttons undone if you're dating a model? And you're not supposed to go to movie theaters because—"

"Carlos, did James say anything about how they met?" questioned Stevens.

He paused and racked his brain. "Um, I think she sent him a letter. Like, fan mail. But girls send James fan mail all the time, and a lot of girls ask to date him. Sometimes he gets marriage proposals. It's weird. One time a guy even—"

"Did he say anything else about this girl?" Stevens pressed impatiently. "Her name? Where they were going to lunch? Where she lived? What she modeled?"

Carlos had no idea. He told the officers everything he knew, which wasn't much. They repeated a lot of their questions, which made him frustrated and irritable. He wanted to go home. He told and retold his account of the morning events, from waking to James's stupid hairspray, helping Camille run lines, walking to the toy store, and going back to the apartment when she told him something bad had happened.

The officer kept scribbling on his notepad. He hardly even glanced up. Carlos tried to see what the man was writing, but was unsuccessful. When Stevens deemed all information had been pried from Carlos, he told Mrs. Knight he'd like to speak with Kendall. As if on cue, the blond was already returning from James's room, Logan at his side.

Carlos zoned out in boredom while the officers introduced themselves to Logan and Kendall. This was pointless. James could tell the officers all about the attacker once he came to.

"Kendall, could you please tell us how you found James?"

Carlos perked up. He sat at attention and looked immediately to Kendall's eyes. The emerald irises glittered brightly like a lit spark, but never became a flame. For the first time in a long time, the expression on Kendall's face matched the look in his eyes. Mrs. Knight noticed and grabbed his hand.

The comforting action of his mother triggered Kendall's lies. Her one motion seemed to transform Kendall into an entirely different person. It was upsetting to Carlos when he realized the new, lying Kendall was the same Kendall he'd known all his life. Kendall's eyes were honest, even when his body or his words were not. He plastered a brave mask on his face, like usual, leaving no trace of his sudden spell of emotion. Or so he thought. Some evidence couldn't be hidden, no matter how hard Kendall tried.

After all, masks couldn't cover a person's eyes.

In that short moment before Mrs. Knight had grabbed her son's hand, a flicker of the real Kendall had shown through. His eyes matched his expression, his movements, his body. He was himself, wholly and truly, holding nothing back.

It occurred to Carlos that the real Kendall wasn't the person he had grown up with. In fact, Carlos wasn't sure he'd ever met him.

"Me and Logan were at the pool," Kendall said. "Carlos went somewhere with Camille, and about an hour earlier James had left the apartment. I didn't think anything of it. We always come and go, you know? I figured he was around."

He spoke like nothing was wrong. His body went rigid, his voice was quiet but even. He was the epitome of control, and nothing could ever make him break. He even offered Stevens and the officer a taut smile, which cleared away the remaining shadows lurking on his face.

Carlos listened intently to Kendall's story, awed more by the way he spoke rather than what was being said.

Katie suddenly nudged her mom's arm. "Can we go see James now?"

"In a minute, sweetie. I want to be by the guys while they're interviewed."

Carlos wasn't sure if Katie really was aching to see her comatose friend, or if she just didn't want to hear her brother's story. Thankfully, the crisis was averted when Logan offered to take her instead. Carlos could have caught up to them if he wanted, but he was engrossed by Kendall's story. He needed to hear everything.

"Please continue," Stevens told Kendall.

Kendall, of course, was unfazed by the interruption, though his gaze did linger a bit on his sister as she walked away with Logan. He sighed lightly. "Right. Anyway, it was about one o'clock. Like I said, me and Logan were at the pool. We weren't in the water, just chilling on the loungers. My phone rang. It was James. I said hey, but he didn't say anything back. I waited a few seconds, didn't hear anything, then hung up."

The recurring chill that kept battering Carlos's body struck again. He shivered, wishing he had his sweatshirt.

"I called him back and he didn't answer," continued Kendall. "That's not weird, right? I mean, he could have just pocket-dialed me, or hit the wrong button on his phone or something. It didn't mean anything." He tensed. "I don't know why I went to look for him. I was kinda bored, I guess, looking for something to do. I told Logan I'd catch up with him later, then checked the crib, the lobby, the park. Then I went around the parking lot, hoping I'd see him. And for some reason, I don't know why, I just… I went down the back alley. And when I did, I saw him right away."

A pause. His expression was unreadable.

"Honey?" said Mrs. Knight.

Kendall blinked. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, sorry. Um, Stevens, could I please tell you the rest of the story privately?"

"What? Why?" The words burst out of Carlos's mouth before his brain had a chance to tell his mouth to keep quiet. All eyes flew to him, and he shrunk back under the scrutiny. "Um," he offered sheepishly, "I wanna know what happened, too."

Kendall heaved a sigh and rubbed at his neck. "Later, okay?" He didn't even look at Carlos as the officers led him farther down the hall, out of earshot to everyone else.

Carlos turned to Mrs. Knight, frowning indignantly. "How come we can't hear the story?"

She caught him in an unexpected hug. He stiffened.

"Just give him a little time."

"Time for what?"

Mrs. Knight pulled back and took him by the shoulders. She looked him up and down, expression one of sympathy. Carlos tried to understand her eyes, but they didn't speak.

"Kendall's been through a lot today," she said, softly. "I'm sure it's hard for him to talk about it."

"Then he should tell us all at once. That way he won't have to repeat it." Carlos stomped his foot in frustration. "No one will tell me anything! I just want to know what happened to James. He was on a date, I know that, and then Kendall found him and he was hurt because someone hit him, but who would want to hit him? I mean why… why would someone do that, why would someone hurt James? And Logan says he can't wake up unless his body says so, and we can't even help because he can't hear us because he's asleep and—and…" His voice caught in his throat. "Mrs. Knight, why won't he wake up?"

Then Mrs. Knight was hugging him again, and Carlos realized his face was wet and his shoulders were quivering. There was a horrible feeling in his stomach, like someone had reached inside him and turned his guts inside out. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the crib and crawl into bed. In the morning he'd wake to a hissing hairspray can and he wouldn't complain, not even a little bit.

Carlos remained in Mrs. Knight's embrace for quite some time. He finally peeked over her shoulder and saw the officers finishing their interview with Kendall. Carlos quickly wiggled out of Mrs. Knight's arms when Kendall began walking over. He didn't want the guys to think he was a baby or anything.

Carlos cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets, hoping to appear as casual as possible. Mrs. Knight smirked lightly and fished a tissue out of her purse so he could wipe his eyes. Carlos turned around, dabbed the tears off his face, then tossed the tissue somewhere aside.

"What now?" Kendall asked as he approached. The officers remained in the hall, talking quietly to each other.

Mrs. Knight sighed and plopped into the nearest seat. "I guess we wait."

* * *

Carlos stands in a dark room.

Or, at least, he thinks it's a room. His surroundings are inky black, so devoid of light that he cannot distinguish anything tangible. There may be walls surrounding him, or there may be an open space stretching endlessly.

Either way, it's black.

He furrows his brow, wondering where he is. A dream, he knows, but why would his subconscious conjure this strange place?

He tilts his head up, searching for stars. There is nothing but the same never-ending obsidian, darker than night.

"Carlos?"

His heart lurches in his chest, startled by the familiar voice. Carlos whips around, expecting to be met with the same span of emptiness that occupies his other sides.

Instead, he sees James.

James is clearly visible; normal and bright. Not one shadow darkens his face. He stands in the same clothes he wore this morning—his red shirt with two buttons undone and a pair of jeans that cost more money than Carlos knows what to do with. There is no bandage on his head.

Carlos takes a step backward, mouth open but failing to produce a word. He can feel the step, the hardness beneath the soles of his shoes, and knows he's on solid ground. The air is cool and a little damp, and it's real, so real, somehow more than just a dream.

James smiles—the brightest feature on his body. "Hey."

* * *

When Carlos woke, he sucked in such a massive amount of air in such a short gasp that he erupted into a spell of coughs. He doubled over in the chair he'd been slouching in, fingers gripping the armrest so tightly that his knuckles went white. His heart hammered wildly against his chest; quick, rattling thumps that made him fear it would pop right out of his chest.

Logan reached over and gave his back a couple slaps. "Whoa. You okay, dude?"

Carlos nodded around his coughs. His eyes watered from the strain.

It took him a moment to remember his location. White. He saw white. White floors, white walls, white ceiling. Then the memories came crashing back. He was at the hospital, in the waiting room, Logan by his side and Mrs. Knight, Kendall and Katie seated across from him. He recalled nodding off, exhausted because of his restless night of imagining monsters from the scary movies he'd watched, and upset that the day had brought them to life. Stevens and the officer had left an hour ago after questioning Logan and making the members of Big Time Rush promise to be available for more interviews until the case was solved. Everyone had moved into the waiting room, hoping for some good news regarding James's condition. So far it was unchanging.

Carlos finally ceased his hacking. He sat on the edge of his seat and took a few deep breaths. Across from him, Mrs. Knight shot him a look of concern.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Just… Um, just a…"

Just a _what_? What he'd experienced felt so real, so lifelike, that to call it a dream seemed inaccurate.

Carlos looked down at his arms. His flesh was still pricked with goose bumps from the chilly air of the black realm where he'd seen James.

James.

His friend had been right there in front of him—a clear, vivid image that still hung on the edge of his vision. He'd never experienced any dream like it, and for some reason, it frightened him.

"Just a what?" said Logan.

"Just a… really weird dream." He rubbed at his eyes, but was unable to shake away the memories of the dream. It was rooted in his mind.

"Well, hey," said Logan, slapping his back again. "It was just a dream, right?"

Exactly. Right. Logan had to be right. Of course Carlos would have a dream about James. He'd been thinking about James all day. It didn't mean anything else.

Carlos turned to Logan, nodding. "Yeah," he agreed. "Just a dream."


End file.
